


Not Awkward At All

by Jam4217



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Dumb Derek, Fluff, Happy Ending, Insecure! Stiles, Jordan Parrish is a nice guy, Jordan Parrish is not a hellhound, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Canon Compliant, You’ll see, everyone is awkward, i’ve still not learned how to tag, kind of, stiles is over 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 09:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19903492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jam4217/pseuds/Jam4217
Summary: I think I got this prompt from tumblr but idk“Stiles who previously confessed to derek that he liked him only to be rejected by him is now trying to look for potential loves elsewhere but When stiles and derek have to sneak into the station again stiles has to distract deputy Parrish so derek can sneak in but the thing is parish has always held a soft spot for stiles and so he flirts with the newly legal boy Derek gets jealous and possessive and he confesses his love for stiles”Sorry for the rushed ending, I’ve been slowly writing this for 6 months and I just needed to stop.





	Not Awkward At All

**Author's Note:**

> Like the summer said, I’m not 100% happy with this ending, but i can’t look at this fic anymore. It’s only my second one, so be kind, but critiques are welcome. Also, i uploaded this from my phone so it took out all of my italics, sorry :)

“This is awkward, isn’t it?” Stiles whispered, not sure why he was whispering. “I mean, I feel awkward but maybe you don’t feel that way.” He paused, thinking, before saying, “It won’t always be so...awkward. Probably. I hope. I mean, I won’t always feel this way and then we’ll both look back on the whole situation and laugh, you know, it’ll be really—“

Derek cut his rambling off by slapping a large hand over Stiles’ mouth, eyes flashing red in warning. “Shut up, Stiles,” he said before removing his hand, “and relax.”

Reaching into his pocket and fingering the pendant he kept in there, Stiles took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Derek was right, he needed to relax so he could focus. Sneaking into the case files room in the Sheriff’s Office was not a task for a fickle mind. Stiles’ role was crucial to their—somewhat impossible—plan.

Usually they would just ask the Sheriff about the suspicious case, but he was laid up in the hospital after suffering a mini-heart attack earlier in the week. He was going to be fine, but he’d be lucky if Stiles ever let him eat anything that wasn’t a fruit or vegetable ever again. So they were stuck with this plan: staking out the parking lot of the building to see when the least amount of deputies would be inside, Stiles would distract them with his charming personality and good looks while Derek snuck through the back with the key John was letting them borrow. It all would have been so much easier if Stiles could just use his spark magic to turn them invisible, but alas he hadn’t figured out how to do that yet.

They’d been in Roscoe, Stiles’s beautiful blue baby, just over an hour now and they had sat in silence that whole time, not even the radio on to distract them. Stiles’ ADHD addled brain did not do well with silence; it was a miracle in itself that he hadn’t spoken for that long. But Derek wanted silence, so that’s what he would get. Stiles didn’t want to incense the werewolf any more than he already did just by being dumb and visible and human. Not after their last conversation went so wrong two months ago.

**********

Stiles was laying on his bed after his birthday party. It was just past midnight but he wasn't tired. He was eighteen, now, a legal adult. With that age came an opportunity, one he had been waiting a long time for. 

Rolling onto his side, he swiped through the picutres that had been taken that night and thought about the party. It hadn't been that big of a guest list: Scott, his mom, and his betas, Lydia, Malia, and Kira rounded out the group. It was everyone Stiles loved, except for one person. 

"Derek's busy brooding, right now," Malia had said, rolling her eyes. "But he said to tell you happy birthday."

Stiles shook it off, it wasn't really that big of a deal, he hadn’t expected the alpha to show up. He'd gotten a "Happy bithday" text and that was honestly more than he thought he would get. 

The night was fun, though. Video games, pizza, and soda were shared amongst evereyone (except for Stiles' dad, of course) and it was the most relaxed they all had felt in a long time. There was no threat, supernatural or otherwise, hovering around Beacon Hills and no ominous vibes radiating from the Nemeton. Life was peaceful, tranquil, even. He was happy, and that was a weird feeling to admit. The weirdness was bolstered by the fear he felt at how easily that happiness could be taken away. 

A sound in the dark pulled him out of his reminiscing of the night. Something was rattling at his window and Stiles knew it wasn't the wind. He got up and reached for it, unlatching the lock and moving back to give Derek space to enter. His broad form was illuminated by the yellow light of Stiles' desk lamp. 

"Hey, Sourwolf," Stiles said. "You're a little late for the party."

Derek grunted, tucking one hand into his leather jacket and pulling something out. "Happy birthday, Stiles."

Shocked, Stiles reached out a pale hand and took the small gift from him. He was too surprised to even make a joke about how it technically wasn’t his birthday anymore. At the older man's raised eyebrow, Stiles rushed to open the package. As he lifted the lid off of the box, he gasped and ran his thumb over the wooden symbol that rested inside, attached to a thin black chain. He was...speechless. Amber brown eyes watered, staring down at the gift that meant so much. He hurridly took it out of the box, placing the chain over his head so the pendant rested just beneath his collar bone. He couldn't stop admiring it, the craftsmanship and the elegance. Calmness washed over him emanating from the necklace. 

"It's a triskele," Derek said, gruffly. "Like my tattoo. I carved it becuase I figured you could use it to help anchor your magic." 

"You made this?" he asked, shocked. "Derek that's incredible, I didn't know you handled wood so well." Stiles paused, blushing as he reviewed his words. "I mean--"

"I know what you meant," Derek interrupted, blushing a little himself. 

It was that, the warmn flush of his cheeks beneath his stubble, that prompted Stiles to reach up and pull Derek's mouth down to meet his own. It wasn't a proper kiss, at all. Derek didn't move against him, frozen from shock. 

Stiles pulled away quickly, backing up with his hands raised to give Derek space. "I'm sorry that was awkward," Stiles said. "I'm so sorry. I should have asked, I shouldn't have just grabbed you, that's not how I wanted to do this."

Derek unfroze, raising a thick brow at the younger man’s words. "That wasn't how you wanted to kiss me?"

"Yes. Wait, I meant no, that wasn't how I wanted this to go!" Stiles said, gesturing between the two of them. He took a deep breath as he thumbed the triskele wishing for courage to flow through his body. "Derek Hale, I really like you. Like a lot. I just wanted to tell you and maybe ask you on a date if you're willing, I guess."

The pause was too long. Before Derek began to speak, Stiles knew it was a rejection. "Stiles," he said, softly like his voice was caught in his throat. "Stiles, I don't think that's a good idea. You're...young and good. I don’t want—I mean, we shouldn't—“

"You're right," Stiles said, turning around and trying to find some place to put the empty gift box down. He rounded on his desk and took off the necklace, that pelaseant feeling disappearing as he put it back in the box. "You're absolutely right, I guess I just thought--" he stopped, cutting himself off. Without looking up from the box on his desk he continued, "Anyways, you should probably go. Thanks for stopping by."

He heard rather than saw Derek open up his window and escape into the night. He counted slowly to fifty, waiting for the werewolf to get out of hearing range, before he let the tears fall from his burning eyes and a broken sob came out of his mouth.

**********

“Get down,” Derek said out of nowhere, sinking low in his own seat. 

Quickly, Stiles followed suit, tucking himself out of site. It took a few moments to understand why Derek warned him, but only a few. They’d waited for another hour after Stiles’ attempt at conversation, but it seemed there was chance was now. Like ants scurrying out of an anthill, a hoarde of sheriff’s deputies poured out of the building and into their cars before speeding off with their lights flashing. 

Only three cars remained in the lot: one decorated vehicle and two undercover cars. It was the perfect opportunity to sneak into the station. Must have been some emergency, Stiles thought to himself as he and Derek wordlessly got out of the jeep. They only nodded to each other as Stiles headed to the front and Derek to the back.

It felt like walking into his second home, familiar and comforting. He’d spent so much time here in all of his years, had practically lived in his dad’s office the year his mother was dying. It had changed in small ways over time, but the overall feeling of safety was still the same. 

“Stiles,” a voice called out, pulling him from his thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

He had hardly noticed that he’d walked right past the unattended front desk into the deputies’ area. Deputy Parrish was walking towards him, smiling and holding a bottle of water from the break room. 

“Deputy Perf—I mean, Deputy Parrish,” Stiles said, almost letting his internal nickname for the man slip out. “Deputy Perfect” was fitting, though, what with the man’s toned body and perfect smile, not to mention his friendly personality. Stiles walked to meet him halfway, awkwardly waving rather than hugging or shaking hands as he weaved between desks. 

Parrish waved back, grinning his perfect grin, “We’re both adults here, Stiles, call me Jordan.”

“Well, Jordan, my dad just wanted me to come and personally thank everyone for their gifts and well wishes, but,” Stiles looked pointedly at the empty room around them, trying to act out the surprise he didn’t feel, “everyone seems to be gone. Except for you that is, Jordan.”

The deputy chuckled, amused. “Someone had to stay to man the fort,” he quipped. “But how have you been? I haven’t seen you around since before Christmas. How’s it feel to be an adult?”

Stiles shrugged as he thought about it. “Not that different,” he said, honestly. “I mean, I can buy lottery tickets now, so, I guess there’s that.”

They both laughed at that, and it seemed that was enough to release some of the tension in the air. Conversation flowed easily between them, like they were old friends. Jordan talked about how he was liking Beacon Hills and asked Stiles about the colleges he was considering attending. 

Only once in the short time did Stiles really have to work to distract the deputy, putting on his dumbest face as he insisted that no, he didn’t hear anything from the back rooms and yes he was sure and really Jordan you don’t have to check, but if I’m boring you... Stiles found that Jordan was funnier than his serious “cop face” portrayed him to be, and even a little less mature than Stiles had thought him. Overall, he was younger and more relatable than he projected himself as while on the job. 

“And the next thing I knew,” Jordan said, recounting a story about a perp he’d recently arrested, “his pants were on the ground and his bare ass was in my face.” 

They both began laughing again, tears nearly coming out of Stiles’ eyes as he pictured it, not to mention how shocked Parrish must have been—the look on his face was probably priceless. Stiles snorted as he imagined it, pulling out his phone to respond to a text at the same time. 

It was Derek: Got everything. Let’s go. 

Leaving the message unopened, Stiles slid his phone back into his pocket. “Next time, you gotta buy the guy some dinner first, Parrish, before you go asking him to drop his pants,” he joked, sitting on the edge of a deputy’s desk.

Laughing, Jordan came over to sit next to him, tentatively leaning on the same thin edge of the desk. Their shoulders were touching but neither man seemed to mind. 

“What about you?” Parrish asked, not looking at Stiles. “You got anybody to buy you dinner?”

That was the funniest thing Stiles had heard all day, funnier even than the story Parrish had just finished telling (him, with a successful love life—pure, unadulterated imagination) and he let it be known with an ugly chuckle. 

“Single as a pringle,” he replied, reaching into his pocket to thumb the triskele pendant he’d been carrying for weeks. “I thought I almost had something, but, ah, no dice.” His phone buzzed, and he ignored it, not caring who it was, though it was probably just Scott checking up on him and Derek. 

“That’s too bad,” Jordan replied. “I’ve always thought you were a catch, myself,” he continued, still determinedly not looking at the younger man. 

Stiles was glad for it, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water before he caught his breath. Still, it took him a few tries to form a coherent sentence. “W-w-Huh? I mean, are you saying something? I mean, you’re saying what I think. Wait, no! Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” 

With a light blush, the deputy nodded. “I’ve got a bit of a crush on you, Stiles,” he stated plainly. Which, whoa. How was Stiles supposed to act now that he’d been confessed to? 

“Thank you,” the teen replied, quickly, cringing to himself in the awkward silence, “...is not what I should have said.”

But Parrish was laughing, shoulder shaking full bodied laughing, and that was enough of a net for Stiles’ ego to land on that he didn’t feel the need to curl up and die of embarrassment. He blushed, of course, skin red as a tomato in splotchy patches from his cheeks to his neck as he watched Parrish laugh. The deputy’s perfect teeth showing just between his pink lips. Stiles couldn’t lie and say he’d never fantasized about him before; it caused a sense of validation to flow through him. 

His phone buzzed again, but he continued to ignore it though he felt the difference from a short buzz of a text to know that he was getting a phone call. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jordan said, finally looking towards Stiles. “I know I’m probably not—“

“Hey, Parrish,” a loud voice called, prefacing the loud stampede of some of the deputies returning. “You finished making—hey, Stiles—the coffee?”

With a shrug and a small smile, Jordan nodded motioning to the break room. The deputies’ area began to fill up with other officers, all of them greeting Stiles and asking after his dad. Their opportunity for privacy disappeared before their eyes. 

Stiles did his best to be polite, making sure to actually thank the officers who had sent cards and gifts to his dad’s hospital room. He also made sure to personally say goodbye to Deputy Parrish. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jordan said, handing Stiles a sticky note. “We can finish our conversation another time and maybe I could buy you dinner.” He winked, and Stiles blushed as he walked out, pocketed the sticky note and took extra care to not bump into any desks or chairs like he usually did on his way out. 

Outside, he turned into the corner of the building and walked deep into the alleyway before he started to scream into his sweaty hands, muffling the sound. When he stopped, he looked up and saw a looming shadow and screamed again, this time his hands were by his sides unable to muffle the high pitched sound. 

Derek rushed towards him, silencing the sound with his own, larger hands. His eyes glinted dangerously even though they weren’t werewolf blue, but his normal array of green. Stiles relaxed minutely, suddenly remembering all of the messages he’d been ignoring and the real reason they had come to the Sheriff’s station. 

“Seriously, Stiles?” Derek questioned, voice low and menacing. “You jeopardized our operation by flirting with the guy?”

Stiles tried to respond but the werewolf’s hand over his mouth muffled all noise. Annoyed, he gestured for Derek to remove it and, with a sigh, he did. 

Frustrated at himself and Derek, Stiles began to explain, “First of all, I didn’t jeopardize anything. You were taking forever in there, and you’re lucky I kept him occupied. Second of all, I wasn’t flirting with him, we were just talking.”

Derek scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You were totally all, ‘Deputy Perfect buy me dinner blah blah blah’,” he said. 

“I never said that and I do not sound like that!” Stiles states, annoyed. After taking a deep breath, he continued, “So maybe he was flirting with me, so what?”

Before Derek could reply, Stiles turned away in a huff and began walking back the way he came, towards the street where his jeep was parked. 

“Hey,” Derek shouted as Stiles walked away from him. “Hey! Don’t ignore me.”

“You’re in the wrong here, Derek, I’ll do what I please,” Stiles replied without looking back. There were no cars and no other pedestrians on the street, no one to witness their argument. 

He reached to open the driver’s side door, but before it opened enough for him to squeeze through, a large hand covered his own and slammed it back shut, staying there and stopping him from opening it again. Groaning and turning around, he shouted, “Why are you being like this?”

“Because you liked it!” Derek practically growled. “You like Deputy Perfect and the fact that he flirted with you.”

Feeling very angry—at Derek, at Scott for putting them together, at himself for letting Derek get to him—Stiles kept up the shouting match, “Of course, I liked it, Derek! It’s nice to feel wanted, especially by someone who is so obviously out of my league and especially after getting rejected by the person I actually want to be with!” 

At that, the werewolf dropped his hand from the car door, frowning, and Stiles was left blushing furiously at his own admission. They were both breathing hard from yelling and the human wasn’t sure what to say next. 

“You still,” Derek began, quietly. “You still want to be with me?”

Without meeting his eyes, afraid of the emotions those green pools would reflect, he replied, “Always, Sourwolf. ”

The silence was not comforting as it reminded Stiles of the last time he had been so open about his feelings. After a few seconds, he began mentally berating himself: stupid, stupid, Stiles and my stupid freaking heart.

A hand on his chin pulled him out of his thoughts and before he could say anything, Derek was kissing him. This time, Stiles was the one who was frozen, his brain unable to tell his lips to move, to kiss back.

Before long, Derek pulled back. “I guess I know how awkward that is, now.” He rubbed the back of his neck, as Stiles remained frozen. “Stiles, I like you a lot. More than like you, I love you and I want to be with you. I’m sorry that I rejected you before, but you’re just so young, and I was being stupid, I guess. So, I’m sorry. And I love you.” He tried to smile, green eyes searching brown for some sort of answer to his rushed confession. 

He wasn’t expecting the snort of amusement he received as the teen tried to mask his laughter. 

“Well that wasn’t awkward at all,” Stiles replied, relaxing out of his frozen state. 

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek said, his ears flushed red, feeling embarrassed by his words. 

“Make me,” Stiles said, grinning wildly and reaching up to pull the werewolf down. 

When they kissed this time, they both kissed back, and it wasn’t awkward at all. At least until a patrol car pulled into the parking lot and Deputy Graeme called out, “Looking good, Stiles!” Then, it was very awkward.


End file.
